


A Shattered Dynasty

by orphan_account



Series: A Shattered Dynasty [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1912! China, 1912! Russia, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, In 1900s Imperial China, Little bit of fluff if you look closely, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mild Gore, Slow Burn, Takes place in the 1900s, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wang Yao is the right-hand advisor of the Xuantong Emperor, Puyi. When he encounters the right-hand man of the Tsar of Russia who goes by Ivan, Yao believes he has fallen completely in love. However, when the Qing dynasty is threatened by a revolution, Yao will have to make a grave decision: Save his empire from falling, or sacrifice his one true happiness?





	1. Someone I Saw In The Garden

Yao was hot.

Very hot, as a matter of fact. The imperial gardens turned out to be a horrible place to escape the constricting atmosphere of the palace, considering the fact that it was right out in the open sun. Even the peonies that surrounded him reflected that. Their shriveled pink petals laid on the ground.

But alas, it was the emperor himself, who had been the very reason Yao had gone out.

The heated arguments and insulting remarks that were thrown around in His Majesty’s room had proved too much for Yao. The Xuanlong Emperor wasn’t much help either. He merely sat and agreed to disagree. Even worse the palace’s new visitors had seemed to push him around, and also shoot disapproving glances at Yao.

Now here he was, sitting in frustration in a laughable amount of shade under a small fruit tree. The silk sleeves covering his arms’ entire length were already drenched in sweat, and he smelled more like a farmer than the emperor’s right-hand advisor. A summer breeze blew by, cooling him, but not that much. The patch of grass he sat on rippled as it blew through them.

Then Yao saw it.

It. He didn’t know what “it” was, or why it happened to be here. “It” was standing near an empty patch in one of the smaller gardens, and standing there as if waiting for something to pop out at him. 

Yao stalked closer to “it”, and saw that “it” was a man. But not one of his men, or any of His Majesty’s citizens. 

No. This man had a tall nose, and the tone of his skin was much lighter than that he had seen in his lifetime. Whitish-blonde hair covered his scalp, with bangs reaching down to the man’s unusual violet eyes. Bright yellow flowers with brown centers were being held in his hand, as he kept on looking at the empty patch with a blank stare. 

He was… kind of scary. Perhaps even a bit frightening. Not to mention the heavy coat and scarf he wore looked extremely uncomfortable to wear in this heat. How did he manage it? Yao had to admit he was fairly impressed. 

But he’d never seen the violet-eyed man before. Then again, how would he have gotten through the palace guards? There were already dozens of them that guarded the gates day and night. To trespass was punished by immediate death, not to mention purely suicidal. 

Who was he?

Who was the violet-eyed man holding the bright yellow flowers?

“Sir, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask why you are here in His Majesty’s imperial garden. Are you a guest of his, today?”

He blinked twice, then whipped his head in Yao’s direction. A dazed look had crossed his eyes while sweat gleamed down his pale forehead. He didn’t know whether it was from his clothes or nervousness. 

“Yes, in fact!” he laughed anxiously. “I-I was just passing by when I saw this empty patch of dirt here. What a shame that nothing has been put here, no?”

The man’s hand tightly gripped his flowers, and to be honest it was an amusing sight to Yao.

“The imperial gardener hasn’t been up to date on his work lately. He has had other projects to work on,” Yao spoke, gesturing to the array of enormous apple trees lined up on the side of the palace. “It’s silly to put something here where it won’t get noticed.”

The violet eyes in front of him were lost in thought as if contemplating what Yao had said. Then with a cheerful expression, he smiled and gave his answer.

“It’s always the smallest details that impress the crowd, Your Majesty.”

“Please, you don’t have to address me as Your Majesty! I am merely his advisor, to begin with,” a shocked Yao unknowingly yelled. 

Chuckling, he put on another warm smile.

“Like I said, it is always the smallest details.”

He gestured to Yao’s hand, silently asking him for permission for him to touch. Yao gave his disgruntled consent and tentatively reached out, palm opened. The man reached into his bundle of flowers Yao had seen earlier and took one from it. He carefully placed it in Yao’s trembling hand, enclosing his hand with his own larger hand.

“Ivan. My name is Ivan. This beautiful flower here is called a sunflower.”

Ivan. 

What a…

What a strange name.

Yet somehow Yao found beauty in it.

Ivan’s gentle violet eyes glanced at him once more, leaving him to admire the strange colour. Then he turned, the low crop of his coat barely brushing against the green below them. The flowers he now knew as sunflowers hung limply from his side.

It was at that moment that Yao completely fell in love.


	2. You're Here Again

“Yao! Where were you? We have not even come to an agreement yet and you decided to leave us? How kind of you to do that in our moment of need.”

The emperor, who’s cheeks were flushed with invalid anger, was now standing up in his seat. His comrades that surrounded him seemed to hold a vague fear for him, keeping at least a few feet away.

Yao on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered with this man, anymore. He had lived through brutal dictatorships, fought horrible wars, and seen his closest people die at his feet. He had helped built this country. The emperor was the one that should be praising him!

Without Yao, that man who called himself the ruler would not even have his precious throne.

“I apologize for it greatly, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Imperial Majesty? How fancy you have gotten these days.”

Yao was sure he could crush this man with the strength he had gained over the centuries.

“Your Imperial Majesty—”

“I thought I told you to do away with the name. Surely you’ve gotten to know me well enough over the years, now haven’t you?”

The hand gripping the sunflower Ivan had given him tightened, prepared to swing it at the bastard sitting on the throne in front of him. 

Yao, calm your senses. Surely you don’t want to be beheaded like you got in the last two dynasties?

The scars on his neck threatened to tear, but he managed to compose himself. He gazed at the Emperor’s neck, not daring to look above into his unmerciful eyes.

“There is an unknown stranger in the Imperial Gardens. Surely you have something to do with this?”

No reply.

Cautiously, Yao took the quickest glance at the man. His eyelids were near closed, but focused as if trying to find a marble he had dropped. He completely ignored Yao’s inquiry.

“Excuse m—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I was just… occupied for the moment. But your question, is irrelevant. Trespassing into the Imperial Palace is punishable by extreme capital punishment. Going in there would be absolute foolery. Perhaps you were hallucinating or some sort?”

“I don’t possess any condition that would allow me to do so, sir. That is why I wished to ask you about whether this man had some relation to you.”

The emperor thought for a moment, beckoned a butler to give him a cup of water, and drank the cup. Setting it down on the butler’s tray, he went back to thinking again. Then he stood up.

“I don’t know what is causing you to have such foolishness in you, but get rid of it. There is no possible way any intruders could’ve gotten in. If they have, I would’ve shot them myself by now.”

The advisor’s eyes shot up to the standing emperor, refusing to believe what he’d heard. 

Ivan. He had to have been real. The flower, the loose smile, his unusual tall nose, that must’ve been real.

He felt an urge beckon him to check the flower once more, but remembered the emperor still had his eyes on him. Frozen in place, he attempted to speak once more before being interrupted the emperor’s deafening voice.

“Yao! There are guests that have visited from the Russian Empire. They’re neither merchants nor leaders, no much higher up than that. I fully expect you will treat them as such. They’re our allies, no more.”

The gleaming bastard wore a smile on his manipulative face. Little did everyone know he had a way with twisting his words to mean something else.

For Yao, it was obey and live, or disobey and die.

Not that he could die, anyway.

Footsteps signaled someone entering, and Yao’s eyes suddenly caught sight of white hair, yet with a touch of blond.

The color was too familiar to him.

But why would—

“May I please welcome, Nicholas II of the Great Russian Empire and his advisor, to our prosperous land!”

Nicholas II, a man that stood tall and proud in his military uniform as if a newly promoted soldier, had a mustache similar to that of the emperor. Except that it was four shades lighter, longer, and curled at the ends. Beside him, was someone truly unrecognizable. Stone-faced and completely rigid, he stood patiently waiting orders. A smile on his face seemed unlikely.

Ivan Braginsky.

Yao wanted to do so many things in the moment. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run up to Ivan and crush him in his arms. He wanted to strangle him. He wanted to feel Ivan’s hand brush against his again.

Love was an incomprehensible feeling.

“My right-hand man, Yang Wao, shall show you around. Please, do feel free to file any complaints if you must.”

Luckily, Yao had locked his hands behind his back, preventing any conflict to arise should it happen. He couldn’t afford to dance around with this man, anymore. 

The emperor had other ideas with him, it seemed.

Well then. Yao would fight back with his own.

Walking towards the two newcomers, the annoyance and anger he’d felt before disappeared, and was replaced with Yao’s usual warm smile and aura. 

“Welcome! Is there something else that you would like to be called as before we start the tour?”

The tsar, who’d been looking at a painted vase on showcase in the corner, faintly shook his head while fidgeting with his facial hair.

“Please just refer to me as… Nicholas. It is much less confusing, for me and perhaps you as well I hope.”

“Of course. And you?”

His smile was now directed towards Ivan. All memories of their previous encounter was gone now. This… This was all that mattered.

Ivan smiled equally as big as he did and held out his hand, a reminiscence to when he had handed him the strange flower. It did hurt a bit, though. To pretend they never knew each other when they truly did. Then Yao’s mind began to wander. Did Ivan love him back? Perhaps it was one-sided love that occurred in the Imperial Gardens.

“Ivan. Ivan is fine.”

A curt bow and Yao turned away.

“Than Ivan it is.”


	3. Don't Touch Me, Again

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

But he felt too much.

Focusing on the still portraits of the palace calmed him only a bit, but the heavy, soldier-like steps behind him disturbed the otherwise peaceful hallway. Yao didn’t dare look back to see where Ivan and the Tsar were, but hopefully assumed they were content with what they were being shown.

“Excuse me?

“The painting… here. What exactly is it?” pointed Ivan at one of the hundreds of paintings on the wall.

Yao began to analyze the painting. Broken branches lay on the ground, but if one were to look up further they would see bright flowers blooming despite the damage. He did have an affinity for the arts despite being a prominent figure in the government. Spending time beside the paintings was like talking to a friend he knew well.

Strange, though. There weren’t any paintings like this in the palace. All the rest of them didn’t show anything other than beautiful gardens and peaceful sceneries. Since when did this one get here?

“Ah. Flowers in Broken Branches. You see the branches that are laying on the ground? They have been broken from the plant they came from. Broken branches symbolizes early death in our way of life.”

“There’s flowers, though,” the violet-eyed man added. “Surely they hold a meaning as well.”

Yao held his breath, a bit on edge at the amount of questions and interest Ivan was now holding. What did this man have up his sleeve?

“They represent life. Rebirth. From death will come another life. That the cycle of life applies to all things.”

The Tsar was suddenly by Ivan’s side, unusually close. He was engaging in some kind of conversation with him. When they were finished the Tsar was already gone, yet Ivan remained.

“May I ask what’s the matter?”

An unusually grim chuckle from Ivan. “Quite grim for a palace that holds paintings that show nothing but pretty women and gardens, don’t you think?”

Yao felt an unknown source of anger rise within him. Was it possible to be this furious at someone you loved? That man didn’t have any knowledge about anything here. The paintings here. They all had their special meaning to them, and they all held a special meaning to Yao as well. He put a hand on the wall to stable himself, tensing it unconsciously.

“And is there a certain protocol for what paintings a palace must have? Surely you appear to know since you think you know a lot.”

“Apologies, sir. I meant no offense. It’s just that I’ve developed a sense of coldness from where I grew up. It was unplanned, really,” returning to his usual polite demeanor in less than three seconds. He was still smiling though, still looking at the painting on the wall.

Yao didn’t want to stay here anymore, not when he couldn’t bear the presence of this man. He had the nerve to indirectly insult the imperial palace, as suicidal as it seemed to him. Not that Yao himself was offended, but anyone who dared speak outside of the comfort zone here in the country would surely have other motives. 

Ivan seemed like the perfect example.

“Never mind what I said. It’s a hot day today, so you must be a bit warm in those clothes. There’s a servant that can take them for y—”

“I’m fine.”

“But it’s—”

“I’m fine.”

The long-haired man stopped in his tracks, in hopes that Ivan would notice and do the same thing. He squinted closely at him, and realized there were literal beads of sweat on his forehead. Ivan’s bangs, Yao also realized, were swept back to reveal even more sweat. That bastard was hiding something for sure if he was willing to keep his clothes on in this weather.

“I don’t believe sweating like a pig means you’re fine. You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”

Ivan stood there, as if patiently waiting for Yao to figure out everything about him. The two of them were silent as the minutes passed. He smirked, and stalked closer and closer to Yao. The latter was frightened now, and fear flooded his senses to the brim. He kept backing up until he could feel the hard thump of his back against the wall. Ivan’s arms were placed on both sides of Yao’s head, barely inches away from touching him.

The Tsar’s right-hand man had him cornered.

“Naive, aren’t you. Strangers who have no right to answers should know better than to ask for them.”

One of his hands slithered down to his jaw, twisting it gently to make Yao look him directly in the eye. His violet eyes full of lust, yet Yao could spot a hint of annoyance in them. Was he really angered at how Yao was able to sense his plans?

Only one way to find out.

“What?” Yao dared to mock. “Angry that someone was finally able to know what you’re up to? You’re not as secretive as you think you are, Ivan. I only have to yell and you’ll be sent right to the firing squad.”

He could feel the hand on his jaw shove his head further into the wall, tightening its grip that Yao was sure would leave a bruise after. The man above him smiled, aware of the state of discomfort he was in.

“I dare you.”

Yao knew it was a trap to lure him in.

“To yell and satisfy you? I’d rather be damned to hell.”

Yao could all of a sudden feel the cool metal of a gun on his temple. 

“Well I was planning on having you do that tonight, but since we seem to be running short on time I suggest we keep it short.”

Leaning in, he spoke directly in Yao’s face, close enough to feel his hot breath on him.

“Keep your absurdly loud mouth quiet, or I will pull the trigger. Don’t underestimate me and think the guards will be able to catch me. I can easily frame your murder as a suicide.”

The cool touch of metal was unexpected as it grazed Ivan’s blond hair, with Yao’s fingers already about prepared to pull the trigger. He smiled back.

“How about we get this straight. If you pull the fucking trigger on me, then same goes for you. I doubt you’ll be able to do anything, then.”

Ivan’s glare was fixated on Yao, deciding whether or not to believe this man’s death threat. After a few long seconds of debate he dropped the gun, but still looked at Yao. The latter reflected his actions, and shoved his way out of Ivan’s grip.

“Your tricks aren’t that bad, Ivan Braginsky.”

“I could almost say the same for you, Wang Yao.”

The doors to the art hall slammed open, and the emperor was escorted by four guards to where the two of them stood still. One of them spoke for him .

“The emperor would like word of what the advisor of Tsar Nicholas II and you have been up to. Refusal to do so will result in severe punishment.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wang Yao, you are to repo—”

Yao held up a hand, only to look at the emperor’s unsympathizing eyes.

“I heard.”

He strolled cautiously to the door, motioning for Ivan to come with him before he heard the emperor murmur something to the guard. Yao continued, but before he could he was stopped abruptly by a gloved hand.

“Your friend cannot come with you. Emperor’s orders.”

Damn this dynasty and its emperor.

“And why is that? He’s done no harm whatsoever and he’s been with me for the past—”

The stoic guard pointed a sharp finger at Ivan, with Ivan himself staring back with no expression.

“There is a chance he may be a spy, and eavesdrop on our conversation.”

Ivan only held the guard’s gaze for a moment, then turned to Yao for an order.

Obey him. I will catch up with you later.

The Russian man gave a subtle nod, and let himself be escorted through an alternate exit in the hallway by another guard. Yao was left alone with only the emperor and his few guards.

Out of nowhere his body was knocked violently to the ground, and it took him only a few seconds to realize it was one of the imperial guards. There was a pulsing throb in his lower back, but luckily is spine was left intact. A gleaming military-issued boot grounded his cheekbone into the wooden floors, twisting it for good measure. He starts to notice he’s breathing a little too hard.

“You, my friend, are going to come answer some questions for me. Understood? Don’t try to avoid me now.”

He motioned at the guards with a lazy finger to haul Yao up. As soon as he was lifted up the burn and sting crashed into him immediately. The bone-crushing grip adds more to the pain in his biceps. Yao’s hair is gripped by a large hand and his head is yanked up to face the emperor’s emotionless face. They glared at each other, but Yao’s is more murderous. Being pushed around by this bastard, it was humiliating.

“Take him to the area on the bottommost floor. We will discuss our matters there.”

Before he can protest though, the heel of a boot collides with his face. His head is dropping backwards but he can’t stop it no matter what he tells his body to do. Yao sees the boot pull away right before he hits the ground, and there’s a crimson substance sticking to its sole. The emperor turns away, about to head to the unknown room himself before he pauses. 

“You know, Yao. I don’t think you ever knew what fear was.”

The patter of his shoes are the last thing he hears.

Darkness spreads throughout his eyes, and the last thing he sees are the palace doors being locked and shut, the dreaded sound he didn’t want to ever hear. A spurt of blood is coughed out from Yao and it ends up on his uniform.

This must be what fear felt like, then.

Yao, it turns out, has been blindfolded. The only thing he can feel are the drag of his feet against a staircase and two calloused hands lifting him. Attempting to get a response, he spits hard at the figure he hears in front of him. A sound of disgust, and a not-so light knee to the nose.

“I was right not to trust you,” he grounds out, and continues to walk downwards. There’s a small echo in the air giving Yao the realization that they’re somewhere big, perhaps larger than the throne room. Knowing not to push the emperor and doom himself even further, he shuts up for the next few minutes.

They keep going.

And going.

And going.

He begins to suspect bruises on his shins by now, but he’s already accustomed to the darkness. Finally they reach the bottom and he feels the same two hands gripping him whip off the fabric blinding him. Relief washes over him, but there’s no light for him to be blinded to. The room around him was still black as winter’s night.

“Throw him in one of the cells. No it doesn’t matter which one just throw him in one!” the emperor scolds.

The two guards unlock a nearby cell, and push him rather forcefully into it. Another lock and click, and he’s trapped for sure. His back hits a wet wall covered with mildew and rotted paper, his legs failing to support him as he kneels limply on the metal floor.

“Now, what was my right-hand advisor doing in our sacred art hall without permission?”

Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth along with blood, and Yao pathetically struggled to wipe it away with a dirtied sleeve.

“I had no idea it was sacred. Besides the last time I saw you had brung guests into that same room from all over the world. Surely it cannot be sacred, then?”

“That part is irrelevant. It plays no part in this situation. What I’m curious about is whether you plan to plot against me and overtake my place as supreme ruler,” he drew out and shot him a cruel smile.

“Whoever would have the soul to do so would face certain consequences. Doing so would be nothing but suicidal,” Yao spat in a deadpan tone.

“You’re doing poorly to convince me. Fine, leave him here. He’ll figure it out himself.”

The group consisting of him and the two guards left him, leaving Yao here to hear the clanging footsteps up the staircase and the shuddering slam of the door to the room. He made an attempt at standing up, wobbling a bit like a newborn deer but nonetheless succeeding. Taking a scan of his surroundings, he noticed there was more of the rotted paper in almost all of the cells. 

It was then that he saw the faded calligraphy on them.

Talismans, Yao recognized them as. Strips of paper with characters painted onto them to do a certain action. He kneeled facing the wall of talismans he was thrown against earlier and read each and every one of them. Horror struck him as he realized they were designed to keep away the lingering. What use could they have he—

His pants were beginning to feel damp and Yao looked down. 

There was water here.

Tinted red water, that is. Since when was there a flood in the middle of summer?

A large groove in the wall caught his attention to the same wall. Under one talisman, was a jagged line. He started ripping off the paper one by one, until he could see a large portion of the wall. 

Scratch marks, made by human hands.

This wasn’t just a cell. Oh no, Yao was completely wrong.

There were people here, being trapped in here against their will. The scratch marks, the red water, did they want to get out but couldn’t? Did they scream and cry to get out? Yao wanted to do just that right about now.

Yao, keep your head. You can get yourself out, just stay calm for a little bit.

He swore he could hear the screams and pleads from the people forced here. Their scratching, crying, insanity. It was all beginning to get to him.

Please Yao, a little bit longer.

Was the water turning darker? He didn’t know anymore. Yao didn’t know when it started, but he was crying now. Tears pricked at his eyes and fell silently down his face. His hands went to the iron bars locking him in and yanked fruitlessly at them. They didn’t budge one bit.

LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT.

He would not. Yao refused to become these people who wasted away in this cell. He would use his bare hands to strangle that bastard man who called himself emperor and slaughter him afterwards. But such motivations could still not get him out of here, he thought.

Collapsing to the wet floor, the water sloshed around as fatigue began to claim him. No matter what he did his eyes wanted to close so bad. He wanted to end all of this, find the people who killed this innocent prisoners and make them pay. How could he when he was trapped like this?

His eyes finally closed, surprising him with sweet relief from this pain.

But then he woke, to something he’d never thought he’d hear again.

The click of a lock, then a turn of the gate.

Calloused hands, not like the ones that had hauled him down to this hellhole, lifted him up. They held him in a cradle position, and somewhere there was a certain type of warmth comforting him. The scent of lilac and snow wafted through his nose. Even though it was pitch black down here he could faintly see the outline of messy hair and a tall nose. The stranger that had miraculously found him gripped him tightly, and a slight huff laced with melancholy followed. 

“Yao, Yao, Yao. You’re alright, aren’t you. I was hoping you were, you know,” Ivan whispered, giving Yao the cue for him to fall unconscious safely in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Become one with me on my Tumblr, jah?


End file.
